


Just His Type

by fandomfrolics



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2783732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfrolics/pseuds/fandomfrolics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam doesn't have a type, no, not at all. And anyway even if he did, it most <em>certainly</em> wouldn't be Steven Captain America Rogers. </p><p>Nope. Definitely not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just His Type

“So that’s your new running partner? No wonder you ditched me.”

Sam let the chair in his hands drop on the top of the stack in the corner with a sigh. He spun around to find Lily Chang staring at Steve, a wicked smirk on her face.

“Okay one,” he said, counting off on his fingers, “I didn’t  _ditch_ you. And two, I don’t think he counts as a running partner when he laps me oh, I don’t know, every two minutes?”

“Whatsa matter, little birdie can’t keep up with Captain America?”

Sam cocked an eyebrow, planting his hand on his hips. “Steve trash talks me plenty, I don’t need you joining in.”

“Trash talk, huh?” She lifted her styrofoam cup to her mouth, though it did nothing to hide the quirk of her lips. “Funny, I always thought it was called ‘dirty talk’.”

Sam sputtered. He turned on his heel and went to go pick up another chair.

Lily didn’t let him get far, though. On the one hand, Sam rejoiced at how far she’d come from her first VA meeting all those months ago, when she’d barely said a word and her gaze never seemed to come away from those far off places. On the other hand, she was definitely now a huge pain in his ass.

“C’mon Sam,” she wheedled. “You can’t pretend he isn’t  _exactly_  your type.”

He didn’t want to encourage, no, that was a terrible idea because once you gave Lily a little inch she took it for  _miles_. And yet, he couldn’t stop the burst of curiosity that made him say, “And what type is that?”

“You know,” Lily intoned, “tall, blond, muscly. Killer smile. Patriot. Knows just how to ruffle your feathers. And most importantly…” She turned her head to turn to the man in question, who was still deep in conversation with one of the other vets across the room. Sam’s eyes followed suit. “A sweet, sweet ass,” she finished with a sigh.

Sam barely contained his snort. “Thank you for that fine assessment.”

Lily shrugged, taking another swig of his coffee. “Hey, just offering my professional opinion.”

Sam gaped at her, then said, “You’re a  _landscaper_.”

“And I’ve really got a lay of the land, if you know what I mean,” she said through a grin.

Sam threw his hands up. He was never going to win this.

“So,” she said, no more tease in her tone. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Do about what?” Sam asked, still watching Steve. The man he’d been talking to was swiping at his eyes with one sleeve pulled over his fingers. Steve’s hand rested on his shoulder, not rubbing, not patting patronizingly. Just resting, a solid, reassuring presence.

He had that way with people, Sam thought. A way of just making you feel like you were still standing on two feet, even when it felt like the world was completely falling out beneath you. It was a total wonder, complete magic, especially considering that Steve himself was a mess of feelings of displacement and confusion and depression and hopelessness and helplessness and all things that had no right filling up a man like that. No right at all.

“Sam?  _Hello_ , earth to Falcon. Do I need to start chirping at you again?”

“Huh?” Sam blinked when a small flapping hand came between him and the ducked sandy head.

Lily snorted. “Not your type, huh?”

Sam looked at her. Then, without a word, he grabbed the cup out of her hand and stalked off, swigging down the rest of her terrible stone-cold coffee as he went.

—

He was just finished gathering all the pamphlets scattered across the table by the entrance, tapping them on the table to neaten the stack, when a light touch on his shoulder made him jump sky high and scatter them all over the table again.

“Oh god, sorry Sam, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just…”

Sam spun around to find Steve standing behind him, one hand rubbing at his neck and the other still outstretched over his shoulder, as if frozen there.

Sam had never been so glad for his dark skin before because the blush on Steve’s face was bright enough to signal an airplane and he was sure if he could, he’d have one to match.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said hurriedly, cutting off Steve’s stumbling words. “I just, uh, had too much coffee.”

He dropped into a crouch to pick up the pieces of paper that had dropped to the floor. Steve, however, seemed to have the same idea because when he brought his head up, it was met by hard, serum-enforced skull.

“Shit, Sam, are you okay?” Steve asked, worry making the words come tumbling out one over the other.

Sam leaned back on one hand, the other clutching at his head. The impact had shoved him back onto his butt and he sat still for a second, waiting for the immediate pain to subside.

Stupid Lily and her stupid comments and her stupid coffee and her stupid…stupidness. This was all her fault somehow, he knew.

“Sam?” Steve tried again, gentle.

Sam held up one hand in the universal ‘give-me-a-second’ gesture.

Steve dropped back onto his haunches, giving him a slight nod.

For a few moments, all he could hear was their harsh breathing, both of them chasing air for different reasons. Steve was clearly worried that he had caused Sam some terrible harm but Sam was finding it hard to articulate anything but a series of swear words at the current moment and could do nothing to reassure him otherwise.

“I just…” Steve started hesitantly, scarcely ten seconds later. “Look, Sam, I wanted to…”

The pain had dropped down to a very tolerable mild throbbing by this point and Sam dropped his hand. He frowned up at Steve. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Steve’s mouth clapped shut and he stared at Sam for a moment, looking incredulous. “Me? I’m fine, you’re the one that just got a headbutt from a supersoldier!”

Sam waved him off. “I’ll be fine, taken worse knocks from my overenthusiastic nieces. I was asking about you. You seem…tense.”

“I don’t…” Steve swallowed the rest of what he was going to say, electing to swipe his hand over his face instead. “Oh, heck,” he said when he resurfaced. And before Sam knew what was happening, Steve’s hands were on his cheeks and gently tilting his face up and then…

And then they were  _kissing._

His poor injured head took a second too long to process this information, however, because suddenly Steve was  _gone_. Or rather, his lips were.

“Sorry,” Steve immediately shot out, his voice strange and high-pitched as he reeled back with a horrified expression. “I— sorry, I just thought— Lily said—”

And though he was dying to know what, exactly, Lily had said, he couldn’t stand seeing that look on Steve’s face one second longer. He put out a hand, fisted it in Steve’s shirt, and  _tugged_.

Steve, still in shock probably, went all too willingly and got with the program way faster than Sam had, responding to the touch of Sam’s lips on his with immediate enthusiasm.

Sam leaned back, taking Steve with him. Steve’s hands landed on the floor on either side of him, bracketing Sam in place as Sam licked at his lips and turned their kiss deeper.

The rustle of the pamphlets as they shifted reminded Sam that they were in fact, on the gross, cold floor of a room in a church and he pulled his head away with a sigh, taking his hand back from where it had just begun to creep under Steve’s now untucked shirt.

“Steve,” he murmured. “Steve!” he tried again through a laugh when Steve ignored him and continued to mouth insistently at his neck.

“What,” Steve groaned, clearly put off at being pulled away from his mission.

“We should probably go…somewhere else.”

Steve blinked, shook his head a little as if coming up from underwater. And there it was, the sheepish blush that seemed inevitable, taking over Steve’s face as he levered himself off Sam and back onto his knees. He hefted himself up to standing and put a hand out to help Sam do the same.

“So, um…” Steve said, his hand back at his neck again, rubbing and rubbing.

Sam grinned and hooked an arm around his waist. “Let’s go home, you idiot.”

—

“What did she say to you anyway?”

“Hmm?” Steve said, sounding utterly boneless.

“Lily. What did she say to make you…go for it?”

“Oh,” Steve said, turning back over so they were face-to-face on Sam’s pillows. He grinned and ran his palm up Sam’s side. “She told me I was just your type.”

Well, Sam thought, as he closed the tiny gap between them.

Maybe Lily wasn’t so stupid after all.


End file.
